Bikers in Love?

[LPMarshall Hack]

Next time I have a 12 hour flight, I’ll dig into it…

 

[Roberteaux]

Next time I have a 12 hour flight, I’ll dig into it…

You should get the 10-page comic book version of the post...

Prolly only take you about 3 hours to read that one!

--R

 

[LPMarshall Hack]

You should get the 10-page comic book version of the post...

Prolly only take you about 3 hours to read that one!

--R

Link!

 

[Olds442]

so did this one dump you for a dwarf with questionable ethics as well?




I kid!

 

[Scooter2112]

Damn fine story!
Didn’t realize this was a necro-post until 6 or 7 posts into it ....doh!

The hunter became the hunted..almost willingly. Best part is that you enjoyed it. And lived to tell the tale. That’s life...raw and unscripted. Bravo!!

 

[SteveC]

Rob -- I love your stories. Works of art, they are!

 

[Roberteaux]

so did this one dump you for a dwarf with questionable ethics as well?

I kid!

No... so far it seems to me that a man may only be dumped for a dwarf once in his whole life... if it ever even happens at all!

But, there really *was* a bit of a story to follow... and I'll lay it on ya later.

But to foreshadow things I'll say this much now: you know how I felt like I was kind of going after some nice, sweet girl who probably shouldn't mingle with riff-raff such as myself?

Well. that was WRONG! This chick, Laney, turned out to be a genuine wild child-- just one that had never run with bikers before.

So at least I didn't end up with a guilty conscience...

--R

 

[Tim Fezziwig]

Rob ,no worries,when I met Pre-Mrs.Fezz I thought......should I give up my freedom?

25 years later..

No regrets,without her I would be "retired" from ART I was getting prepared for THE BIG DEATH....
No more creating ,may as well put up my feet and drink and watch sports...

She FORCED me to use computers....without her no FEZZ....no POETRY.....

The shackles are actually freeing.



How crazy is that?

Good luck young Rob..

I see MANY MORE TALES in your future.

 

[Tim Fezziwig]

Rob,you are a more verbose version of a biker I knew,Slug,who did open hand me several times....I did "deserve" it I keep "flirting" with his Mama...in my " defense " he did ALWAYS tell her to sit on my lap.

Slug LOVED books,he turned me onto Henry Miller,Buk,AND Celine...talk about WEALTH! Worth EVERY slap.


One night Slug and Mama hit an oil patch on 95....RIP....

He understood LOVE.


HE WAS LOVE!

 

[Olds442]

I'll say this much now: you know how I felt like I was kind of going after some nice, sweet girl who probably shouldn't mingle with riff-raff such as myself?

Well. that was WRONG!

you just described every relationship i've ever had.

 

[LPMarshall Hack]

Damn fine story!
Didn’t realize this was a necro-post until 6 or 7 posts into it ....doh!

The hunter became the hunted..almost willingly. Best part is that you enjoyed it. And lived to tell the tale. That’s life...raw and unscripted. Bravo!!

Oh damn…I didn’t realize this was a necro post either!

 

[LocoTex]

I'm eagerly awaiting the sequel.

 

[Roberteaux]

Rob,you are a more verbose version of a biker I knew,Slug,who did open hand several times....I did "deserve" it I keep "flirting" with his Mama...in my " defense " he did ALWAYS tell her to sit on my lap.

Slug LOVED books,he turned me onto Henry Miller,Buk,AND Celine...talk about WEALTH! Worth EVERY slap.


One night Slug and Mama hit an oil patch on 95....RIP....

He understood LOVE.


HE WAS LOVE!

RIP... sorry you lost your bro, Tim...

We had a guy like that... our nick for him was "Shakespeare". But somehow, he survived being himself, eventually got sick of The Life, and went to college. Got himself a business degree, and worked a bunch of management jobs until medical cannabis became legal in Florida. Now he's the manager of a cannabis dispensary in Daytona Beach!

I had to crack up. I was talking to the dude on the phone one night, and asked him how things were going at work. He chuckled and said, "Well, the job is easy enough and I'm mostly all about keeping the books straight and making sure that the employees aren't ripping the place off. But I had to laugh: it occurred to me the other night that I was slingin' weed to pay for college, and got my degree... and now here I am, slingin' weed all over again!"

"Eh, the more things change, the more they stay the same!", I laughed.

***************​

But here's a thing that I think might make you grin, Tim...

Somewhere around 1998, this guy showed up in the bar wanting to talk to me-- specifically to me.

I'm looking this guy over. He says he's a sociology student at UCF, and he's doing his master's thesis on the so-called "Indie Biker Scene". He explained that numerous papers-- including doctoral dissertations-- had been published on the "1%er Club Scene" and so that subject had already been chewed to death.

BUT, he somehow became aware that there's this whole "indie" thing going on with guys who are *not* club members, but who are a more freewheeling set of bikers with a code and mores all their own... and a distinct aversion to the idea of themselves becoming 1%ers, whom these indies tend to view as "a bunch of clucks who can't make it on their own", as one of us put it to him.

So now this guy wanted to talk to me. I was one of a half-dozen guys he wrote about at length in the final version of his thesis, and his purpose was to show how "socially variegated" were were, despite extensive commonalities, and to contrast our ways to those of the far more strictly regimented lifestyle of 1%er club members.

***************​

Now for the ha-ha part. I'm sniffing this guy while he's talking to me. I decided that I didn't think he was a cop posing as a college student or anything like that. Instead, I believed him to be what he said he was: a person seeking an advanced degree in sociology who figured he'd found a subject interesting enough-- and different enough from other similar studies-- to get him that master's degree.

So, I allowed him to interview me at length. He only met me in person twice, but spoke to me on the phone a dozen times or so.

Then he sent one of the other guys a partially-completed essay, that more or less represented the bare bones of what his more lengthy thesis would contain.

And that's when I found his description of me. It was about a paragraph long-- and he nailed me in his character sketch, too-- but to my never-ending delight, he ended that paragraph with this sentence:

"He is quite possibly the world's most eloquent thug."

***************​

Eh, I almost died, I was laughing so hard... I just absolutely loved it!

--R

 

[Tim Fezziwig]

RIP... sorry you lost your bro, Tim...

We had a guy like that... our nick for him was "Shakespeare". But somehow, he survived being himself, eventually got sick of The Life, and went to college. Got himself a business degree, and worked a bunch of management jobs until medical cannabis became legal in Florida. Now he's the manager of a cannabis dispensary in Daytona Beach!

I had to crack up. I was talking to the dude on the phone one night, and asked him how things were going at work. He chuckled and said, "Well, the job is easy enough and I'm mostly all about keeping the books straight and making sure that the employees aren't ripping the place off. But I had to laugh: it occurred to me the other night that I was slingin' weed to pay for college, and got my degree... and now here I am, slingin' weed all over again!"

"Eh, the more things change, the more they stay the same!", I laughed.

***************​

But here's a thing that I think might make you grin, Tim...

Somewhere around 1998, this guy showed up in the bar wanting to talk to me-- specifically to me.

I'm looking this guy over. He says he's a sociology student at UCF, and he's doing his master's thesis on the so-called "Indie Biker Scene". He explained that numerous papers-- including doctoral dissertations-- had been published on the "1%er Club Scene" and so that subject had already been chewed to death.

BUT, he somehow became aware that there's this whole "indie" thing going on with guys who are *not* club members, but who are a more freewheeling set of bikers with a code and mores all their own... and a distinct aversion to the idea of themselves becoming 1%ers, whom these indies tend to view as "a bunch of clucks who can't make it on their own", as one of us put it to him.

So now this guy wanted to talk to me. I was one of a half-dozen guys he wrote about at length in the final version of his thesis, and his purpose was to show how "socially variegated" were were, despite extensive commonalities, and to contrast our ways to those of the far more strictly regimented lifestyle of 1%er club members.

***************​

Now for the ha-ha part. I'm sniffing this guy while he's talking to me. I decided that I didn't think he was a cop posing as a college student or anything like that. Instead, I believed him to be what he said he was: a person seeking an advanced degree in sociology who figured he'd found a subject interesting enough-- and different enough from other similar studies-- to get him that master's degree.

So, I allowed him to interview me at length. He only met me in person twice, but spoke to me on the phone a dozen times or so.

Then he sent one of the other guys a partially-completed essay, that more or less represented the bare bones of what his more lengthy thesis would contain.

And that's when I found his description of me. It was about a paragraph long-- and he nailed me in his character sketch, too-- but to my never-ending delight, he ended that paragraph with this sentence:

"He is quite possibly the world's most eloquent thug."

***************​

Eh, I almost died, I was laughing so hard... I just absolutely loved it!

--R

 

[Tim Fezziwig]

Rob,that is great,I often forget when I'm reading your stuff that you are a hairy ape-man,you remind me of my old bookworm friends from my POETEY days,we would go to bars and talk and talk about Lit.

Books and POETRY lodge into many an odd soul,I was an avid reader since 10. I never thought about POETRY until I hit 15....then.


I need Whitman....Baudelaire...

By 21 I was "all in",it is in THE BLOOD. I only know my birth parents nationalities, but,I'm quite sure one of them was a crappy ROCK guitarist or a POET..Hell,I like to believe my father was an LSD case in a cover band who seduced my poor +timid POETESS mother...creating me...DOUBLE WHAMMY!

 

[mgenet]

R. I had never read this post and did not realize it was Necro until
I saw Hot-Brit's post and looked at the date.

A bit of a surprise but one that did not lessen my enjoyment
of your tale of wanderlust. Superb writing and one of your better.

I was drawn along with you the entire trip...waiting for the bitter
sweet finale...which never arrived (I think) and yet...
satisfying and delicious.

 

[JTM45]

Rob you’re one of the best writers I’ve read, the “real” factor attached to this one is wonderful.

 

[Tim Fezziwig]

Necro....alas LOVE IS ETERNAL at least in this timeless prose..........

 

[Olds442]

R. I had never read this post and did not realize it was Necro until
I saw Hot-Brit's post and looked at the date.

A bit of a surprise but one that did not lessen my enjoyment
of your tale of wanderlust. Superb writing and one of your better.

I was drawn along with you the entire trip...waiting for the bitter
sweet finale...which never arrived (I think) and yet...
satisfying and delicious.

i read the entire OP, then noticed it was a necro from '11.

on my damned phone.

then wanted to **** a certain someone.

then i had fun because MLP always delivers.

headstocks will be snapped.

 

[Roberteaux]

I'm glad so many seem to have enjoyed the post. Weird, to find myself reading it again, so many years after having written it...

Honestly though, the ending was pretty anticlimactic... I can't say that I'm inspired enough to tell you guys how all this worked out with any particular intensity... quite obviously, I was about half out of my gourd when I slapped that shit together!

Testosterone is a hell of a drug.

So, not having some particularly vivid tale to tell, I'll instead just issue a few tidbits here-- so that we can all laugh and put this one back to sleep.

***************​

Okay, this chick's name was Laney, and she was one of those boat-babes-- the kind who hangs out with dudes who own speedboats and all that kind of shit. She was into wave runners, jet skis, scuba diving and snorkeling, surfing, and skiing. Though she herself was pretty much a middle class gal, and struggling along with a daughter as a single mom, the clique she hung with were mostly the wealthier sons and daughters of those whom one finds living directly on the coast.

And she was pretty much a party animal. Not too bad when it came to her drinking: she'd figured out her limits and learned the hard way what happens when you exceed them as a younger woman, but for sure: this chick loved to catch a buzz. And once she had a good buzz going, she could become very naughty indeed.

Her thing with me was just kind of a one-off. She dug the directness of my approach, and though she didn't actually realize that I was a biker at first because I was dressed for work in my maintenance man togs, she got a load of that quickly enough and was intrigued.

She was a very intelligent and vivacious sort of lady, with a personable kind of charm that tended to win others over rather easily. Best of all, when I brought her to Froggy's and we found Wendy working as a bartender, Laney was delighted.

You see, Wendy was a native of Ponce Inlet, while Laney came from neighboring Daytona Beach Shores... and so they'd attended high school together and were friendly enough. So, while Wendy tended to prefer the company of we Main Street greasers, she already knew Laney and most of those whom Laney tended to hang out with. Wendy grew up on the ocean, you see, and so it was inevitable that she'd be found as a member of two subsets as such.

***************​

I also was relieved to find that I didn't have to do anything about poor Marvin, either. Though she claimed he was a boyfriend-- mainly to try and fend me off-- she was kinda fibbin' there. That is, Marvin was a boy, all right... and he was a friend. And she really did know him for four years, because he lived in the apartment adjacent to hers and was also her babysitter.

Marvin was also gay. I mean, like really, really gay... his mannerisms were extremely effeminate, he himself was anything but a bone-crusher, and he came off as just a very nice kind of kid, maybe in his late 20's.

Even the moped was cool. He had it tricked out and set up to be highly functional. He didn't actually need a car because he took the local bus to work and kept the moped around for little runs up to the grocery story and what-not.

***************​

We hung out for a few weeks there... I dated her several times, but most of the time she'd just call and we'd agree to meet somewhere. She didn't mind it that we usually ended up somewhere such as the Boot Hill, Froggy's, or Dirty Harry's. She was sort of indulging herself in a new trip, though you could see that basically, it was just a lark.

There was no specific ending to this thing with her... though it did end somewhere back there. I think I introduced her to one of my friends, who then hooked up with her himself or something. Kinda hard to remember, really... I mainly existed within a perpetual fog back in them thar days. But as the biker thing was never really fully "worshipful" of women per se-- and because it was considered to be low-class and wimpy to act like a cock block, ever-- I would have shrugged to have learned she was running with another one of us guys. And that's if I didn't actually set them up together myself.

Stevie Nicks said it best when she sang, "Women, they will come and they will go..."

***************​

And now? Damn, I have no clue what became of her. I can tell you that she didn't represent the big impact on me that I expected... like, I didn't fall in love or any of that shit... and so she didn't really change my life in a big way so much as to make it a lot more fun for a while.

And really, that's how it all ended.

When I look back, I laugh. I remember exactly where I was when I typed all that shit up, and I remember hop-frogging around every ten seconds, then running back to the keyboard to punch up more shit... and then back to pacing around like a lunatic, amped half to death on raw adrenaline and lover's nuts.

Damn!

***************​

One time, an old man who served as a professor at an all-male college was dismayed by the behavior of his students. They were cutting up, distracted, unable to focus on the subject at hand, and full of unaccountable hilarity.

Finally the old instructor asked them, "WTF is wrong with you people anyway?" These guys were cream of the crop students for the most part, but now they were acting like they were all under the influence of laughing gas.

So they told him: there was an enormous festival about to take place on the river... and it would be boats and bikinis galore. Wine, women, song, and more women. And wine. None of these guys could think of anything but this huge party about to take place down on the river.

So the professor dismissed the class, telling them that they wouldn't be worth a crap until Monday anyway, so he wasn't even assigning any reading. "Just get this out of your system" he told them, "so that we can get back to business."

***************
​

They invited him to join them. He laughed and said, "Oh, you are absolutely out of your minds! Do you think that I want to hang out with a bunch of drunk, horny kids for even ten seconds, let alone to be stuck on a boat full of them for hours? Just go have your fun-- see you Monday!"

The students laughed and asked him why he didn't want to go party. He said that he'd had enough of that shit years ago.

They jeered at him playfully and said, "Wow, too over the hill to have a good time? What's it feel like to be such an old bastard as yourself?"

The professor laughed and said, "It's like having been let off the back of a wild horse I was forced to ride for forty years, is what it's like! Now, get out of here and have a good time before you find yourselves as old as me!"

--R